Cowboy Cop by Lori Wilde & Kristin Eckhardt

Author:Lori Wilde & Kristin Eckhardt
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lori Wilde

10

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Nick stood alone in the foyer of Rawling’s Steakhouse the next evening, glaring at the potted palm in the dimly lit corner. He took a step closer.

The palm fronds rustled suspiciously.

He’d been on edge all week, wondering how Lucy would infiltrate herself into this phase of the investigation. He could hardly bring her along on his date, but hiding in the foliage seemed a little desperate, even for Lucy.

“I can’t do my job if I have to keep looking over my shoulder, waiting for you to interfere. I am a former police detective. I can handle this investigation all by myself.”

No response from the potted palm.

He wondered briefly if Lucy knew how she affected him, how she drove him to do things a normal, thirty-three-year-old man shouldn’t do. Like make out in a car. Or fantasize about a librarian.

Or argue with a plant.

She also made it impossible for him to remain distant and cynical and hopeless. Because when she’d thrown herself on top of him in that car, he’d started hoping all kinds of things—things he’d soon learned could never come true.

Because Lucy had a policy against men like him. And as soon as she accepted her brother’s guilt and gave up on this case, she’d be out of his life. Forever.

“Don’t you feel just a little bit ridiculous?” he asked, glimpsing a flash of blue between the leaves.

The maître d', a tall middle-aged man wearing a dark suit and air of authority, approached him. “Excuse me, sir,” he said, his gaze moving warily between Nick and the plant.

“Yes?”

“My name is Charles. Is there a problem here?”

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Nick assured him.

“Perhaps I can be of some assistance?”

Nick shook his head. “No, this is a private conversation.”

Charles moved back a step. “I see. Well, then perhaps it would be best to seat you now. We have a very attractive fern next to a private table in the back.”

“My party hasn’t arrived yet.”

The maître d' glanced at the plant. “Do you have a reservation?”

He had plenty of reservations. This so-called date with Vanessa Beaumont was not only a dead end, but a potential disaster—especially with Lucy around. She was too unpredictable, too impulsive, too dangerous.

Hadn’t he been punished enough in the last fifteen months?

He scowled at the potted palm as he reached into his jacket, pulling out the appointment card he’d received from the Friends of Pine City Association. “Reservations for two at Rawling’s Steakhouse,” he said, handing the card to Charles.

“Ah yes. The Beaumont party. Give me just one moment, please.” Charles moved back to his station.

Nick’s gaze fell on a newspaper lying open on a mahogany pedestal table. He picked it up, a name highlighted in Midge Berman’s column catching his eye. His jaw dropped as he scanned the column.

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